


Black Swan

by griffle



Series: Fly Through My Window Universe [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batfamily, Family Feels, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffle/pseuds/griffle
Summary: Black Swan (finance): An unpredictable event that is beyond what is normally expected of a situation and has potentially severe consequences.----------------Jenna's First Time as Robin.
Relationships: Duke Thomas & OC, Tim Drake & Everyone, Tim Drake & OC
Series: Fly Through My Window Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023856
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Black Swan

**Author's Note:**

> So I may eventually re-write this to be longer. But this has been in my docs since around chapter 3 of "Fly Through My Window"
> 
> Also of note: I'm fudging a little on the times the Robins were Robins because I keep finding conflicting information and DC canon continuity is a joke.
> 
> TW: Zsasz is vaguely in here? And mentions of violence but nothing concrete.

It still echoes in the Cave. 

Jenna had flown off. Tim isn't sure where she was now, at the moment he feels terrible, but he didn't care, he couldn't care. Right now he just wanted to sit with his back to the BatComputer, wrapping his arms around his knees, closing his eyes to try and shield the images that dance in front of him, the potentials and statistics. 

She could of died. She could of died and it would have been his fault. She could be dead and bloodied and broken and it would be _all his-_

Footsteps, quiet, heavy. He did not open his eyes. 

"I do not want to see you right now B," he chokes out. "I don't think I can stand looking at you, right now." 

The footsteps fade away.

He understands Jack's rage, all too clear. He understands the anger, the _fear_. It chokes him, chills him, fills his veins until they're pounding in his ears. He's furious and scared and even though he stared down apocalypses, fought gods and beings that could easily kill him, this is what takes his breath away. This is what makes him understand Jack's reactions when he found out about him being Robin, why he went to Bruce with a gun in his hands.

_You brought my child in a war meant for adults. You made my child into artillery._

Except it wasn't Bruce this time- no, _Tim_ did this all on his own, helped craft and build an innocent being into a _weapon…_

Above, the bats flutter, their wings beating down a mantra: _Your fault. Your fault._

_Your fault._

He hears footsteps, again, different ones. Multiple ones. He keeps his eyes closed, trying, trying to keep breathing. 

He said _wait_. He said _sixteen, seventeen, eighteen._ He wanted to ease her in, to take her out on patrol, fight some thugs, go slow and easy, do it _right_. Get her adjusted and used to the chaotic mess that was Gotham's underbelly. Teach her rooftop tag, show her where everyone's favorite gargoyles were, let her transition out of childhood the way they never were able to. He wanted to wait until she was at _least_ legally able to drive. 

She ignored him, tonight. 

She went against a Rogue. 

She went against _Zsasz_.

And won, somehow, by pure chance of the element of surprise. Zsasz was alone, usually worked alone, wasn't expecting another Robin to appear, wasn't expecting the damn kick to the face, the damn flash bomb that nearly blinded all three of them, and Damian and him had the foresight to shut their eyes, even tied up on ground. The fucker stumbled around, trying to regain his sight, but she had already deployed the smoke bombs, already freeing both Damian and him from their bonds, and used some sort of gadget to tie Zsasz up and then help break their ties, get off the floor. The cops were already arriving as they left. (It's _Zsasz,_ and he was on the lam already from a prison break.) 

It was a _miracle_ that it went so well. 

But she shouldn't have been out at all. She's _twelve_. They said sixteen, when she could legally drive. They said seventeen when she had finished growing, when her height settled. They said eighteen because she wasn't _needed out there._

There were others out there. Jason, Steph, Dick, Duke, Bruce...hell, even Harper, Luke. Cass. Yes, he got captured with Damian, and _yes_ , their comms got destroyed in the process, but _there were others out there._ Others who could have helped and Zsasz _knew_ about. 

Except now Zsasz knows about her. Now a fucking serial killer is aware of her, a twelve year old, and his child in danger and he _can't change that._ Not without leaving. Not without forever running, looking over his shoulder, not without-

Leaving everything he stood for and loved. Fought and protected. 

And what's worse, when they arrived back to the Cave, when he was so angry and scared and upset- she didn't apologize. She kept that same stubborn tilt to her jaw, so familiar, and yet it still felt like a punch when she shouted:

_Of course I was scared! But losing you is scarier!_

And that. That made him _stop_. 

_(Why did he let her go down this path, whywhywhy-)_

She left after that. Didn't remove the costume (it's new, it's _new_ , how did she get a costume, _how_ ), just left. He crumpled to the floor moments later, curling into his body and trying to remember to _breathe_. 

He felt someone slide down next to his left. 

"I kept badgering him," Dick's voice was soft, so quiet. "Eventually I went on my own, no matter what he said." 

From his right, voice hoarse from smoke and Pit. "I was going to prove my worth." 

Another voice, familiar as her scent of vanilla and lavender. "I was tired of always being on the sidelines, letting him think he could win." 

A hand on his shoulder, thin, but capable. "Trained. To be. Had to be." 

Off on his left, again, stiff, but soft. Understanding. Weary. "It was expected." 

And he knows. He knows and knows and still he grieves, because they're not wrong, but it's _his daughter._

He thinks. _I chose this. I chose this._

He thinks. _Not yet, not yet, why, please, just_ ** _not_** **_yet_** _._

And the Bats cluster around him, as he grieves. 

* * *

Duke is the one who finds her. 

She's up on the roof, near a chimney, hunched and curled tight against the brick, against the chill. She's facing the scrapers of Gotham, a blur of lights that spill upwards into the sky, shine downwards into the water. 

It's beautiful, at a distance.

"I'm not sorry," she spits, voice clogged with unshed tears and anger. "I don't care what you say, I'm not sorry at all." She's bristling, still prepared for a fight. "I don't care if I don't get to be Robin again-" and the hitch, flutter of her eye, he ignores because now's not the time to tell her that he knows she's lying, "-But I will never apologize for saving Dad. Ok? Even if he wants me to, I will _never_ apologize."

Childhood, Duke thinks, is meant for hard opinions, for concrete thoughts. Adulthood changes and morphs everything into an oil-spill mess, black and white becoming what looks like extremely similar shades of gray, with slashes of blood red swirled around. 

Or maybe that was just a Bat's adolescence. Everything simple and concrete before being churned into one morally-gray mass with some bloodshed thrown in. 

Jenna is twelve. And in two months, will be turning thirteen. 

Duke knows that Dick was out in the field already. Damian especially. Jason was twelve when he became Robin, and really, Tim was one of the older ones, the one who was fourteen when he started.

Jenna, he knows, is a bit too much like them. 

Cass never wanted to be Robin, but she had found safety under the Bat symbol, comfort under the wings of the Bat, rather than the Bird. Steph, with how much she poured her heart, her soul, her being into Robin, got little else in return, fought so hard to be Robin, has boundaries, found a path as Batgirl, a place as Spoiler. The others- the Four- All of them wanted to be Robin. Dick was Robin, created Robin, and will always carry that mantle, have a hold on Robin as it's creator. And the other three- they saw Robin as part of themselves, something to become, to have it carve into their beings, through reluctance or stepping stones, understand what Robin means, what the title means. 

He's happy being Signal, being something new. Wearing the R, even as part of the movement, felt like wearing a cloak, a crown of damaged hopes and battle scars. To be Signal is to be something that is his, fully his, something he can mold and shape to his heart's desire. To be bright, to be able to carve his own path. To be a beacon, something to cut through Gotham, to be new, different, changing. 

Robin is a symbol of hope for Gotham. It's a symbol of determination. It's glorious, golden, idealistic. It's the perfection of every beautiful thing in Gotham. It's the good, the better, the wishes of Gotham. Robin is the symbol of dreams, of stubbornness, of youth for Gotham. Robin is carved into the steelwork of Gotham, and to stray from that path is filled with aching nights and silent tears. He's seen the strain it has caused on the others faces, the strain that was in his face. 

And it's this that Jenna sorely wants. 

She was good, Duke thought morosely, letting her curl into his side, silently watching Gotham in the distance as she shakes, silent, furious, terrified. She was prepared. She didn't really fight him,able to keep her distance, keep him off balance, and rather go directly at him, distracted and immobilized him while she got out Damian and Tim, and then got the fuck out of there. He's also aware that she had the element of surprise, and she'll never fully have that again. Rogues talk and soon every villain will know about the New Robin. From the henchlings all the way to Joker. She may get _the_ surprise on them, but she will never be _a_ surprise, again. 

Inevitably, she's one of them now. 

And it's that, that caused Tim to lash out, show his fear. 

"Your dad loves you," he says, instead of the many other sayings that push against his teeth. He could give a speech about what it means to be Robin, what it means to be a Bat. He could talk about his time under the R. Speak vague sentiments and lines hinging on "destiny." He could talk about age and time and how one man's Mission isn't where she should look to build a life, to not follow their mistakes.

He would rather speak truths. Easy truths. 

"Your dad loves you, he was scared. He doesn't want to lose you either." He rests a hand against her other shoulder, not bringing her closer, merely letting it rest. 

She breaks. 

She sobs, loud and noisily. She cries into his side and he keeps still, silent, letting her cling tightly to him. Over and over, she hisses out, _I don't want to lose him_ , until it's nothing but syllables. Because for her, like the rest of them, she looks up at the Bat symbol and sees _'home.'_

And he understands. He understands just as all of the Robins understands. He understands just as the Birds and Bats understands. He understands just as Bruce and Kate understands. He understands just as she is understanding, that a part of her is gone now. Her skin will soon look like theirs and dreams clogged with what she will see. Her eyes will become the eyes of her father, of a Bat. Her childhood is _gone._

She has thrown away a piece of her, all for the sake of one man's desperate dream. 

Eventually, they will come down, and they will meet up with Tim and the others, and both daughter and father will apologize for lashing out, but not the reason. This, they will realize, will be something they will never agree about. Eventually, Tim will ask about her costume and the gadgets and why wasn't she on comm with them? And they will realize that this will be a bigger discussion for tomorrow, because she will not be able to look at any of their faces. Bruce and Tim will not look at each other, another crack, another wound, another ache. Eventually, all of them will spend the night at the Manor, with Jenna curled to her dad's side, as she and him have done before. 

Right now, Duke will just understand. He understands, and with her, he sits on the roof of the Manor, and watches Gotham. 

**Author's Note:**

> Note: yes, twelve is young, but the main thing to take away is that she didn't actively fought. She pretty much went in with Surprise attack! And then grab Damian and Tim and run the fuck away. Maybe not the bravest choice, but she wasn't trying to actively fight Zsasz.
> 
> Also of note: You may ask- why Duke? And my response is, Why not Duke?


End file.
